“Sounds good.” Coop hangs up, and the music slowly grows louder again.
“You’re wrong,” Tyler says as we pull up to the hotel.
“About what?” I ask.
His blue eyes scan over my face, his features perfectly impassive. “About me not liking you. You’ve always treated me like I was a normal person, and I kept waiting, expecting you to do what everyone else does: treat me like I’m different, ask me for favors, laugh when I’m an arse—and you don’t. You’re probably the most real person I’ve ever met.”
My door opens, and I ignore it and the person who’s holding it open. I stare at Tyler, waiting for him to say something else, something more, because hope and reality have just gone to war in my head, and neither is willing to wave the white flag as they armor themselves with that warmth in my chest and his shiny words that wield sharp weapons.
He nods. “I know.” He leans back and slides out of the car.
He knows?
He doesn’t have a clue.
The war rages on, making my heart feel unsteady and my thoughts unstable as I accept the valet’s hand. “Good evening, Ms. Robinson,” the valet attendant says.
I smile out of obligation.
“Hey!” Nessie calls from inside the lobby, her smile radiating with energy and lust and the constant high that is palpable in this city. “How was it?”
“She was a shark,” Tyler says. “Wiped the floor with everyone there.”
“I didn’t lose money,” I clarify.
“She more than doubled it,” Tyler says.
“Whoop!” Nessie high fives me. “I told you she was good.” She looks back at Ty. “Did you decide what you want to do?”
“Let’s hit a club tonight, and tomorrow we’ll go see a show.”
“I’m so on board for that,” Nessie says.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I counter. “We could just walk through more casinos or hang out up in the room?”
Nessie shakes her head. “We’re in Vegas. We’re going out.”
Tyler smirks. “Indeed. Hey, we’ll meet you guys upstairs. I need to stop at the front desk and show Chloe something.”
Nessie grins before spinning around and looping her arm with Cooper’s, their steps too quick as they cross the lobby.
“I didn’t tell you that shit to make you feel guilty for going out. I get deals, and it gives the hotel benefits when we spend money. Don’t worry about it,” Tyler says.
“I don’t want you to think we’re only here because you can get us into all these clubs and shows.”
“If I did, I’d say so. Don’t mistake my compliment for a warning or to mean something it doesn’t.”
Reality cries out a victory as his eyes meet mine, another expression that reveals so little that hope relinquishes its weapons.
Nessie whistles as I step out of our shared bathroom wearing one of the few dresses I packed. It’s a gold cocktail dress that is simple in its design, but the way it glitters and hugs my curves has the more modest dress making me feel even sexier than last night’s revealing number. “You’re going to have to beat the guys away tonight.”
“It’s already past eleven,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “In a month, we’ll be at study groups at this time. Let’s live it up.”
I hold on to this reminder as we head out to the living room. Her sentiment feels like a truth I desperately needed to hear. This entire trip is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We’ve spent most of our lives in Florida, so seeing these states and cities for the first time and experiencing as much as we can is something I pledged to do back when it was our plan with Meredith.
Tyler and Cooper are at the small bar in our suite, watching football clips on one of their phones. Tyler’s blue gaze lifts to me as he’s mid-sentence, his words trailing off as his eyes climb my legs to my chest and finally meet my stare. He blinks and then looks over me twice more before sliding his phone into his pocket.
Nessie nudges me with her elbow. “Told you.”
“You guys look amazing,” Cooper says.
My cheeks heat as I turn my attention to the safety of Nessie. She links her arm with mine like she knows I need her strength.
Cooper snaps his fingers, dancing in place to his created beat, breaking the tension that seems to swallow me as Tyler continues to stare at me.
Coop drapes an arm over my shoulders and Nessie’s. “Let’s go!” he says.
Regardless of it being a Sunday, the club is packed as we follow our hostess, yellow bands around our wrists, marking our VIP status. She leads us up a set of stairs where the suite looks out across the darkened club, a white couch stretching from one wall to the next, several tables spaced out along the stretch as smaller square tables line the railing, looking out onto the club with hardback chairs. Waiting on one of the tables are four shot glasses.
After my day with Tyler, I’m so desperate to silence my thoughts that I barely hear the welcome the hostess offers as I eye the drinks and the club, making quick plans for the easiest way to get out of my head and off this battlefield: drink, find a hot guy, dance. And when the thoughts start to creep back in, take another drink, and by then, the others will likely be ready to go back to the hotel where I can climb into bed and gain a safe distance from these lingering stares and the lack of sarcasm that has kept Tyler and I separated and all the lines between us safely defined.
The hostess leaves, and the others converge around the drinks. I quickly follow suit, grabbing one of the shot glasses and not caring what it is as we lift our glasses with a silent toast and swallow the heat of the alcohol. It burns the back of my throat and my belly, promising to help the music speak louder and quiet my thoughts. Nessie flashes
